Breaking And Entering And Breaking

It typically doesn’t take much to convince any of the Pop Culture Phenoms, except Klein, that there is a reason to get drunk.

A Hollywood premier? Get wasted.

Early dismissal from the arena? More time to drink!

An embarrassing, unprecedented losing streak that makes you question your career choices? Sounds like a couple of bottles to me.

The real challenge comes in what it takes to keep them sober. It’s like Haley’s Comet. A once in a lifetime event. Something that blows in so swiftly and so unexpectedly, you have no choice but to marvel at the chaotic devastation this world is capable of and wonder how you’ve managed to fly through nothingness on a little blue rock at unimaginable speeds where one incident… one mistake could end everything.

A hurricane in the night.

No sirens until it’s too late.

No lights until it’s gone.

Tonight was that night.

*********************

It’s 3:34am in Beverly Hills, California and piled into the back of an Uber Black Cadillac are three husks of what used to be the Pop Culture Phenoms. After a night of drowning sorrows due to falling victim to Satan himself and an international flight home, the buzz of a silenced cell phone heralds a faint blue light clearing the midnight fog of just how gone they are. Elise Ares is slumped over forward mid-drool while The D has somehow made his way onto the lap of Klein, who brushes Elise’s cellphone onto the floor.

“Can one of you please answer the phone?” A middle-aged man with just a tinge of a hispanic accent looks in his rear view mirror, “That buzzing is driving me crazy, amigos.”

Klein lurches forward, dumping The D off of his lap springing the director back to life in a flail of confusion. The Boxman grabs the phone, sends the call to voicemail, and then tosses the phone onto the lap of Elise Ares who instinctively kicks once contact is made with her. Her eyes shoot open and she looks around as if she was knocked unconscious during a match.

“That one is a little jumpy, yeah?” The uber driver chuckles, “Don’t worry, the first stop is just a few minutes away. That’s you, isn’t it seniorita?”

Ares stares at her phone trying to make sense of the universe. 12 missed calls. All from her younger cousin Camila, she thinks. She doesn’t know. Is this even reality?

“Is this real life?” Elise asks aloud, perplexed, “What time is it?”

“It’s a little after 3am.” The uber driver responds.

“So… I’m not even home yet?” The leading lady mumbles, “What did we do?”

“You lost to the Foot Soldiers and got trashed in Tijuana.” Klein answers unenthusiastically.

“Yep. That sounds like real life.” The D chirps in. “That solves that problem. Now can anyone make the car stop spinning?”

“Spinning? It feels to me like we’re fallin-”

Stop. A flood of lights blind the PCP and their Uber driver Miguel as they round the last corner and are blocked from their destination further down the street. The three of them all groan in unison as a police officer knocks on Miguel’s window, jump scaring him as he was rubbernecking trying to piece together the clues through flashing reds and blues like he was on CSI: Los Angeles.

“Did we book another guy with a warrant to give us a ride home?” Elise looks back at The D, squinting through the LEDs, “I thought you downloaded the good app.”

“Hey, that happened one time!” The D grogily replies, “This one is legit. I hope.”

Miguel eyerolls the drunks in the backseat and rolls the window down. The officer takes a look inside and shines his flashlight into the back, where the PCPs all raise their arms over their eyes and groan like zombie extras.

“You’re going to have to turn around and go back, we had an incident up here.”

“I have a young lady in the back here who lives up the street.” Miguel motions to the officer Elise, who is trying her best to ignore reality and pass back out again, “If I could just drop her off, I can turn around and be gone.”

“She’s going to have to walk. No one can go in or out until we’re done.”

BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!!

The phone goes off once again causing Elise to dramatically growl in frustration. Camila again. Ares sits up in her seat and reluctantly swipes to answer.

“¿Qué deseas?” Ares taps the speaker button and closes her eyes so she can take a reprieve from the blindness. There isn’t a discernable voice on the other end of the phone, just a series of sobs and the sound of a young woman trying to turn that into a language of some sort. “Camila? ¿Está ahí?”

“Ma’am?” the police officer suddenly shines his light directly into Elise’s face. “Are you Ivelise Guerrero Yamada?”

Through the soundtrack of unintelligible sobs and the look of concern on the officer’s face, Elise knew something happened. It finally clicks. Sometimes life can be sobering.

*********************

Two and a half weeks later…

Elise exits a nearby bathroom, towel wrapped around her head. She dries her hair further while wearing a tight white t-shirt and jeans. The D sits there, reading a newspaper. Elise does a double take.

“Where the hell did you get a newspaper?” Elise says, shaking her hair dry and tossing the towel into the corner.

The D snaps and unfurls the newspaper. “1993. Back when they had manners.”

Klein quickly walks in to defuse a bit of a tense situation. He rushes over and picks up Elise’s towel and tosses it into a nearby hamper. Elise just rolls her eyes at him as he passes in front of her.

The door bell rings, and Klein quickly rushes to open. Camila enters, sighing and rolling her eyes before flopping onto the couch. “God, all these boys just want one thing and I just wanna sleep on their couch.” Camila rolls over and looks at Elise. “Don’t worry, they don’t get anything. But even the creepy guys… it’s better than being home alone. That’s just, echoing creepiness.” Camila shudders. “I guess I’ll get used to it eventually…”

She trails off. The D unflaps his newspaper again. “Thank you for sharing without us prompting.” The D coughs and clears his throat. “Today, my balls hanged so low I thought they were my knees.” He takes a drink of his morning OJ. Elise just stares at him. “Oh, I thought we were sharing uncomfortable stories.”

Camila rolls her eyes, as does Elise. That’s when Elise’s phone beeps. She pulls it off the nearby table and takes a moment to read it. As she does, it seems to increasingly infuriate her. So much so she can’t even speak, and hands the phone over to Klein.

“So…” Klein starts reading. “It looks like your next match is against a tag team called…” Klein looks over to Elise, who reaches out and punches her hand clear through the D’s drywall. “...The Intruders.”

“Is this some kind of sick joke?!” Elise shouts, pulling her hand out of the drywall, causing the rubble to land at her feet. Here her cat rolls around and starts rubbing against Elise’s leg.

“Elise, it’s probably just a coincidence.”

“Really?!” Elise snaps back.

*********************

There is something about seeing the front door of your home removed and dozens of people walking in and out that makes you feel violated. That’s all Elise could think of as she stood 35 feet from the front door of her Beverly Hills home, what should be the safest place in the world for her, but instead it made her feel like some overserved frat boy had just tried to fondle her at the bar hoping she wasn’t paying attention. Only this was much more successful at making her feel defiled. The D staggers up and puts his arm on her shoulder to console her, but she unconsciously brushes him off.

“Camila!” She shouts before pushing her way past a few police officers. A young hispanic woman, no older than 22 looks up and sees her cousin through a sea of blue. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy, but lit up when she made eye contact.

“Elise!” A running hug greeted Ares at her homecoming, but couldn’t help but feel a little awkward. Elise and Camila didn’t have that kind of relationship. Elise was the jet setting, world traveling entertainment star who didn’t have time to keep track of her own business while Camila was a college aged kid who didn’t know what she was doing with her life, had no motivation, and could only afford to buy food because her cousin needed someone to watch her house.

Camila didn’t have the motivation to find a career or even get her driver’s license, not to mention get a home of her own. Most of her days were spent convincing some dumb boy to give her a ride to the beach, petting Elise’s cat, or talking to her friends online from the guest house on the other side of the pool. A desperate embrace was far from a daily interaction. It was much more likely to find Elise kicking her guest house door open at 2am shitfaced screaming at her to do something with her life besides half the city of Los Angeles.

“What happened?” As happy as she was to see her baby cousin unharmed, she couldn’t help but ignore the embrace to stare down the rest of the room. It was a hurricane. Pictures off the walls. Drawers shattered across the floor with their contents sprayed about. Tables overturned and broken. What felt like her entire life, molested and discarded. Her jaw dropped to the floor.

“Seis hombres der-” Camila began to tell the story when Elise walks right past her and begins pacing around the house, behind her The D and Klein walk up to Camila,

“Run that back for us, Camila. This time in English?” The D inserts himself into the conversation.

“There were six men. I was sitting on the couch in the other room petting Swarmaoski when I heard the door get kicked in and the alarm went off.”

Elise looks at her television face down on the floor and the gaming consoles missing from their homes. Just a mess of HDMI and ethernet cables hanging from the wall above the corpse of an entertainment center with drawers shattered across hardwood floors and doors ripped off the hinges.

“He ran away and I saw them run into the house, wearing all black and masked, and they just started tearing everything apart.”

Walking up the staircase, Elise runs her hand against the wall that used to be covered in art and shadowboxes celebrating her wrestling career. Her original Amethysta mask lays on stairs, covered in glass shrapnel.

“I screamed and they pulled out a gun and made me go outside by the pool. They told me if I got in the way, they’d kill me.”

The door to Elise’s bedroom hung halfway off its hinges. Thousands of dollars in jewelry were gone but in their wake were dozens and dozens of clothes. Jeans. Blouses. Socks. Lingerie. Underwear. A box of condoms. Her most private belongings are on display in a room with two men wielding flashlights and tongs, out for the world to see.

“I called the police. They were already on the way. They say they got here in just under four minutes, but it felt like six hours.”

Elise walks into her bathroom attached to her bedroom. She sees her toiletries on the floor. She collapses and joins them and tears stream down her face.

“And they just left?” The D asked, standing next to Camila in the middle of the landing. “They smashed everything, grabbed what they could carry, and they were out of here in three minutes.” Camila answered.

“And the cat?” Klein couldn’t help but ask.

“He’s fine. He hid under the dining room table. A bit skittish though.”

Back up in the bedroom, one of the police officers knocks on the door with Elise sitting on the other side of it with her back against it. Ares doesn’t answer. She looks around the fluorescent room trying to make sense of it all.

“I know it’s a lot right now, but you’re not the only one.” The man says. He pauses and waits to hear a response. There isn’t one. “There have been a rash of break ins across town in celebrity homes. These guys target someone, usually a sports star because they’re broadcasted live, and then break into the house when they know they’re not there.”

Ares takes a deep breath, but doesn’t answer.

“I understand you had someone watching the house, but you should probably look into getting some added security. We were here quick, but not quick enough. When you’re ready to talk. We have some questions for you. Just meet us downstairs.”

As she hears the footsteps walk away from the door, her body unclinches and she collapses all of her weight against it. All the drinking and all the losses in the world didn’t matter at this specific moment in time. Now, she was sober, whether she liked it or not.

*********************

“Intruders?!” Elise snarls, “Get that bitch Lindsay on the phone right now!”

“Elise, I understan-” Klein tries to calm the situation.

“You don’t understand SHIT, Klein.” Elise snaps, “That wasn’t your underwear they went digging through! That wasn’t YOUR feminine hygiene products scattered on the floor. That wasn’t YOUR baby cousin forced out of the house at gunpoint.”

“I’m not going to pretend that we feel th-” The D attempts to get a word in.

“Call that bitch.” Elise sneers, “NOW.”

Left with no other choice, The D begins dialing the number he has on file for Lindsay Troy. Pacing back and forth across the living room, the South Beach Starlet has her fists clinched as the voicemail picks up unsurprisingly. After the beep, The D opens his mouth to leave a message, but Elise’s voice comes out.

“Are you fucking KIDDING me, Lindsay?!” Elise erupts, “You ask us to come to PRIME for years… FOR FUCKING YEARS, then when we do we’re EMBARASSED. Night after fucking night. It’s like GODDAMN Groundhog Day where you find another way to fuck us. Then you ask us to sign up for your little high school pick me, pick me PPV and NO ONE FUCKING PICKS US! SURPIIIIISE!!!!”

Klein shoots an uneasy glance over at The D, who is just about to hang up the call when the glare of Ares stops him in his tracks.

“Then because I’m traveling for your show my house gets broken into. Everything I’ve worked my entire life for is FUCKING GONE. I’ve been to therapy more in the past 2 weeks than I’ve been in my whole life, then you think it’s a HAHA FUNNY GODDAMN JOKE to book us against THE INTRUDERS?!?! THE INTRUDERS?!”

Ares rips the phone out of The D’s hand, who looks over at Klein helplessly.

“I’ll tell you what Lindsay... booking us in that ladder match was the biggest mistake you’ve made. Last time I was in a match like that in PRIME I won the 5*Star Championship and this time, I’m going to win again, just to spite you. You wanted our attention? You wanted us to take things seriously? You got your FUCKING wish.”

Elise hangs up the phone and tosses it back to The D. She continues to pace as the trio share the room in awkward silence. After taking three laps, Ares grabs a pick of cigarettes off the table and marches out the front door. The D and Klein share a long glance at each other.

“We’re fired, aren’t we?” Klein eventually says.

“Only one way to find out.” The D answers with a sigh. “I need a drink.”

"I'm gonna go and buy a ladder to practice." Klein proceeds to walk off.

"I don't think you're in..." The D shouts after, but Klein doesn't notice. "Eh. He'll figure it out eventually..."